


You Can Bet It's Love

by ShippingEverything



Series: Leave Me Alone (I'm Lonely) [6]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: "No Homo" Usage, 5+1 Times, And then when its revealed that they're not, Bets & Wagers, Betting on Romance, Everyone Thinks They're Together, I hope you like mushy romantic Romano bc that's the Roma that you get in this fic, I’m currently writing a fic where Roma is sad and I needed to take a break with happy fluffy spamano, M/M, Sorry Not Sorry, also Feli calls Mexico "Sorellina Ale" bc its adorbs okay, an awful lot of fluff considering that they "aren't dating", everyone bets on when they'll get together, everything is fluffy and nothing hurts, he literally mouths a love declaration to Spain when he's not looking, like how much more gross and lovey-dovey can you get lbr, really dumb plot bunny that wouldn't leave me alone, there may or may not be “platonic” kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 21:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2597555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippingEverything/pseuds/ShippingEverything
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which no one understands how Romano and Spain aren't dating, and America wants to make some money.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can Bet It's Love

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's procrastinating on her nano novel?
> 
> it's me. I needed happy spamano and I needed this fic. My tumblr is, as always, hamsteakandpasta. 
> 
> I use a chick for Mexico and her name is Alejandra :D
> 
> please enjoy

_Uno~_

 

On one sunny day, Feliciano Vargas decided to go visit his brother. Admittedly, he didn't do it as often as he should have, but Lovi never acted like he wanted Feliciano to come over more often, so it was all okay.

Probably.

Regardless, Feliciano was there and he was going to drag his brother out for a day of bonding, whether he liked it or not!~ He expected that Lovi, probably still in bedclothes, who would groan and bitch but eventually give in, like always, and invite Feliciano in for coffee and breakfast. What he didn't expect was Antonio, shirtless and sleepily rubbing at his eyes.

"Big brother 'Tonio?"

"Ah, Buenos dias Feli. Should I-" He was interrupted by a yawn, "Disculpa, should I go get Lovi? He was still asleep when I got up to make breakfast, but if it's Important Country Business, I can wake him."

Now, Feliciano was an easily excitable Italian; he jumped to conclusions faster than a bullet, loved romance almost as much as he loved fine wine, and he was, if nothing else, a very emotional man.

That said, it took an _extreme_ amount of effort for him to resist jumping for joy and gleefully welcoming Antonio into the family.  _You both have my blessing_ , He wanted to say. _Why didn't Lovi tell me? Doesn't he trust me? Doesn't he_ love _me???_ He wanted to ask.

But  Feliciano was going to try to use that restraint thing that Luddy was always talking about, so instead he said, "Oh, ve, it's nothing Important. You can let him sleep, especially since he must've been up _super late_ last night, right?"

Okay, so maybe Feliciano still needed to practice his restraint -- and his subtlety -- but it was progress.

Antonio cocked his head, "Um, not really. We had an early dinner and fell asleep almost right after dessert..."

"I understand completely, Tonio. 'Dessert' makes me tired too sometimes, ve, especially when it's really good!" Feliciano winked, and Antonio looked even more confused. "Ha ha, okay, I'm sure Lovi won't like waking up alone, so I'll let you get back to sleep."

As Feliciano skipped down the street, somehow in even better spirits than normal, he took out his phone.

**To: Sorellina Ale <3**

**20 euros says that lovi and tonio finally got together**

**From: Sorellina Ale <3**

**my country uses pesos not euros dummy**

**From: Sorellina Ale <3**

**but ur still on. theres no way vino grew a pair yet**

* * *

 

_Two!!_

 

Alfred F. Jones liked to consider himself well-informed of other countries affairs.

This was especially true when compared to the European nations because they were ridiculously behind on gossip, despite their stupidly exclusive, old-countries-only club. And really, what good was a union if you didn't even know who your border bros had crushes on?

That's right, no good.

With that in mind,  when Alejandra told him about how she had earned 350 pesos (Whatever that was in _real_ money) because Ditzy Italy was wrong about Spain and Mean Italy dating, Alfred was reasonably shocked.

"They're not?" He asked, because he was pretty sure that he had seen them kissing like three times and that they held hands during meetings.

"They're not." Alejandra confirmed with a smirk, before continuing, "I had to call him and ask -- Feli was too afraid to do it -- and when I did, I could practically hear him blushing through the phone and he was all like 'Sh-shut the hell up, where did you even hear that from? Leave me alone, Ale!', so he's apparently still in the denial phase."

Alfred clicked his tongue because he _hated_ being wrong, but maybe...

Maybe Ditzy Italy had the right idea with that bet thing.

"I'll bet you 10 bucks that they'll be together in six weeks."

"Ha, as if they could stop being dumb in such a short amount of time," Alejandra tossed her hair, and thought for a moment, "200 Pesos on two and a half months."

"I don't know how much money that is, Mex."

"It's about 15 of your dollars, pendejo. How are you a superpower if you don't know conversion rates?"

Alfred huffed out a "I can convert stuff, I just don't memorize the rates like a nerd," and thought for a moment. He could profit off of this if he played his cards right... "Maybe you could ask Dit-Italy if he wants to join in on it too?"

Alejandra nodded and took out her phone, nails rapidly clicking across the touch screen, and Alfred almost buzzed with excitement. _Conceal, don't feel, Al,_  He told himself,  _Don't let her know._

The other countries sort of, kind of thought he occasionally had a really, _really_  bad gambling problem ("It's not like I gamble as much as Monaco," he had whined time and time again, "And no one does anything about her!" Of course, Monaco was exceptionally good at gambling, and she always won enough to break way more then even). They had even went as far as to outlaw him from it, with Alejandra leading the movement after he had shown up at a meeting with a horse, but without his very expensive, brand new suit ("But I won a horse! Who needs proper clothing when you have a horse?"). If she thought that he was too involved in the betting, then she'd shut it down.

Luckily, the 50+ times that he had seen Frozen were good for something other than memorizing movie lines, and Alejandra failed to notice his glee. She eventually left, but not before roping both Ditzy Italy _and_ Hungary into the betting pool. But that wasn't enough; a betting pool was hardly complete with only four people. Alfred whipped out his phone and dialed a number.

"Hey Artie! ... Yeah, yeah, I won't call you that anymore, whatever. Anyway, I was calling because apparently Mean Italy and Spain aren't dating! Can you believe it? I made one of my cool celebrity ship names for them and everything ... Spamano! Isn't it cool? ... What do you mean 'I don't care and I don't see how that's your business anyway?' Everything is the hero's business! Duh-doy! ... Do you always have to be so difficult? ... Fine, I'll get to the point. Mex was just here and listen to this..."

Alfred hated being wrong, but he _loved_ having a chance to earn money. 

* * *

 

_Trois <3_

 

It had only been about two weeks, but Francis had heard about the "spamano" bet pool. He was, in fact, fairly certain that the only countries that hadn't heard about it yet were Lovino and Antonio themselves. But Francis didn't do bets on love; it was tasteless and rude and he was still bitter about how they didn't even _ask_ if he wanted to join the pool for the last two bets, so he didn't intend to join the rest of the (almost literal) world.

At least, he hadn't.

Until one day, when he had planned lunch with Antonio and Gilbert, Antonio dragged Lovino along. That in itself wasn't odd -- if Lovino wasn't so adamant in acting like he didn't like them, he'd be a honorary member of the BTT -- but then...

"You can't fucking order for me, people will think things, bastard!" Lovino seethed as a light flush dusted his cheeks.

"What kinds of things?" Antonio replied in his most oblivious voice and _Dieu_ , Francis knew his best friend wasn't _that_ dense, he had to be doing this on purpose. To _flirt_.

"You know," Lovino made some vague and sweeping hand gestures, " _Things_."

Francis wondered how Lovino would take it if he knew that everyone already thought "Things" about him and Antonio.

Antonio smiled his Oh-Lovi-You're-So-Cute smile and shrugged, "But I like ordering for you. And what other people think really doesn't matter, right?"

Lovino grumbled some insults and curses as his face turned ever redder, and after a while, Antonio turned to talk to Gilbert.

And that was when it happened.

In a second, the disgruntled glare melted into one of the most adoring looks that Francis had ever seen (and that was saying something; Francis, as one of the older countries, had seen a ridiculous amount of disgustingly enamoured faces), and then, probably believing that no one would see or understand him, Lovino mouthed a silent _Ti amo_ to the back of Antonio's head.

It was disgusting.

It was _adorable_.

It was exactly the sort of thing that Francis liked to meddle with.

 

**To: Feli~**

**I know I declined your offer previously, but I would like to put 40 Euros on two months from now.**

 

**From: Feli~**

**Its fine!**

 

**From: Feli~**

**Ale usually takes the bets, but i got it, no problem big brother!**

 

Because _really_ , even if he didn't win (Though he was certain that he would), the likelihood of Antonio and Romano discovering the pool was directly correlated to how many people participated, and maybe if they found out then they'd stop being dumb and _just kiss already._

* * *

 

_ Quatre/Four _

 

Matthew Williams leaned against the conference room doors, and listened to England starting the meeting. They had, once again, forgot about him, leaving him to attempt to hail a cab (Read: Fail to be noticed by any drivers), and eventually just walk to the meeting place. When he had gotten there, they had been closing the doors and oblivious to Matthew’s cries to wait. _Guess I'm going to spend another meeting taking notes from outside._

“Hurry the fuck up, we're late!”

Matthew looked up from his despair and saw South Italy and Spain running towards him (Well, running towards the door, they probably wouldn't see him, but still).

“Lovi, slow down, por favor! I can’t run that fast!”

South Italy immediately stopped, frowning. “Shit, sorry. Are you going to be okay for the meeting?”

“No, it’s fine, just,” Spain winced a bit, “It just stings a bit, but I’m fine, tesoro.”

“Shut up and let me help you, dumbass,” South Italy tsked softly, the insult sounding a lot like an endearment than anything else.

Matthew felt like he was intruding on something extremely personal, but they were blocking the hall and there was no way for him to escape.

“Okay, Lovi. How’s my suit? You know how Gilbert will be if it’s all messy.”

“It looks fine. A few wrinkles but you can chalk that up to how horrible you are at ironing.”

"So mean, Lovi. I'm good at ironing."

South Italy snorted, "Yeah, that's why half my sheets have iron-shaped burn marks."

 _Wait, what?_ Matthew had heard that everyone thought these two were dating, but he didn't think anything of it -- he wasn't particularly close to either of them, and Alfred had started the bet frenzy, so he wasn't too interested in getting involved -- but if they were ironing each other's linens...

"I'd say a couple burn marks are better than having to buy a new set of dress shirts because _someone_ likes to be unnecessarily violent."

Now, Matthew had heard claims that the southern half of Italy was awkward and fumbling, especially when it came to intimate things, but there wasn't anything awkward about how he grabbed Spain's tie and pulled him close, more than close enough to kiss, and said "It's your own fault, bastard, you look too damn good in a suit."

But then South Italy blushed fiercely and let go of the other nation, turning around and yelling, "A-Anyway, we're fucking late! Come on!"

And, if Matthew was a gossip and if he wasn't 80% sure that Alfred would just ask him who he was, Matthew would've told his brother what he had just seen because he was sure that there was _no way_ that those two weren't dating, and since Alfred's date was still 2 weeks away, he would probably want to know. _Hm, I should probably_ try _to tell him, just as a warning, just to be polite..._

_SLAM!_

Matthew was startled out of his musings by the door, only 3 feet away, slamming shut. He was locked out.

 _Again_.

“Tabernak."

* * *

 

_Cinco_

 

João Carriedo Lisboa mostly avoided other countries. Even centuries after it had happened, he was still bitter about how France, Antonio, and Arthur had bullied him out of his trade routes (And, no, he couldn't “just get over it”; Antonio was still pissy about his dumb Armada and no one told him to get over it, it wasn't _fair_ ) and the experience had made him weary of his fellow nations as a whole. In fact, much to his boss' chagrin, only willingly talked to about fifteen of the other countries, a small number that lessened to three if you only counted the ones that he wasn't "related" to.

Keeping that in mind, he was understandably disinterested when Arthur invited him to the (apparently) annual European scavenger hunt. It had been established to "Improve relations between the personifications of Europe because do you all _have_ to hate each other so much? Please just _try_ to get along, for once.”

But João’s boss was insistent, so João found himself trying to find a golden egg hidden in Arthur’s forest of a back yard.

“Fuck yeah!” Lovino’s voice carried throughout the yard, and he sounded excited, which could only mean that he and Antonio had finished off the list. _Well, at least I might be able to catch the end of Ajuste de Contas now._

“What?” Arthur was yelling too now, and João started making his way towards the crowd of disgruntled nations that had formed around Lovino and Antonio. “There’s no bloody way that you found everything that quickly, especially not when you’re working with _that_ oaf.”

João was close enough to see Lovino’s smirk morph into something angrier for half a second, before it was back, more smug than ever, “And yet, here we fucking are, Eyebrows.”

Arthur grumbled under his breath, tickling the items that Lovino had brought off his own master list, cursing when he realized that the Italian had actually gotten everything. “Fine. The next scavenger hunt will be held in Southern Italy-”

“Spain,” Lovino interrupted, “We're holding it in Spain, because like hell do I want any of you at my house.”

“Fine, the next scavenger hunt will be in _Spain_ ,” Arthur audibly gritted his teeth, “And I present the winners with… the European Chalice.”

 _European Chalice?_ João thought, squinting as Arthur took out a fairly small trophy-like cup. He had seen it before, occasionally risen during meetings when people were arguing with Arthur, and the arguing party had always ceased with minimal grumbling. _Oh my god,_ Joãothought as it clicked,  _Whoever has the chalice thing gets to be ‘right’ in non-serious arguments. That thing is honor-bound power in a dollar store cup._

João vaguely wished that he’d tried a bit harder to win.

“Damn right you do!” Lovino grinned wickedly, ripping the chalice from Arthur’s hands, “C’mere, you dumb Spaniard.”

Antonio complied, forcing Lovino into a quick selfie (He was obsessed with those lately. It was only mildly annoying), before Lovino pulled him down and kissed him. And not like the weird kiss thing that North Italy did, no, full on the mouth, this-is-not-a-drill _kissed_ him.

_Well, I guess that rumor that I heard was true._

And that was that, and honestly João was happy that they'd finally gotten their shit together, because those two had been stepping around each other since the before the first World War. But then Lovino pulled back and Antonio -- grinning, cheeks barely even flushed -- said “No homo, si?” and Lovino replied with rolled eyes and “Duh,” and they kissed again and-

 _These two are_ fucking idiots _, eu juro por deus._  

* * *

 

_Uno mas/Un altro_

 

Lovino’s voice drifted brokenlyback into Antonio’s bedroom, “Okay… No, we can’t do … asleep, you dickwad … say something like that again, I’ll … Yeah, bye.”

“Who was that?” Antonio asked when Lovino snuggled back into bed, drawing the Italian closer for warmth.

“Y’know…” Lovino’s voice was muffled by Antonio’s chest, “Just America. He said that his bet involves the entirety of this week, so we can stop this dumb shit. And that there’s more than 600 of his dollars in the pool by now, whatever the fuck that is in real money.”

Antonio clicked his tongue lightly, “You shouldn't call American Dollars ‘fake money’, amado.”

“It’s too fucking early for me to be polite, dumbass.”

“I don't know, querido," Antonio shifted, running a hand through Lovino's hair, "If I can stop pretending that I _don't_ adore you with all of my heart-”

“Don’t say such embarrassing shit, bastard!”

Antonio ignored Lovino’s weak punch and the heat that he could feel radiating off of the Italian’s face. “Then I think we should spend all day in bed.”

Lovino looked up at him quizzically for a spell, before it clicked, “Oh.”

“Si, tesero,” Antonio leaned down to bite lightly at Lovino’s ear, grinning when his lover muffled his quiet moan, “‘Oh’ is exactly what I intend to make you say.”

**Author's Note:**

> Idk if it's completely clear, but Mexico misunderstood Lovino, and America used that misunderstanding to his advantage. He called Lovino up and was like 'okay be real w me, you dating spain?' and Lovino was like 'omg who keeps telling people about it we were trying to be discreet omg' and Al was like 'okay cool can you help me win this bet ill split the winnings with you' and Lovi was like 'fuck yeah i can i enjoy money'
> 
> America was declared the winner three days later when they had a meeting and Lovino and Antonio walked in holding hands, the former sporting a decent amount of dark love bites scattered across his neck.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
